


Depths

by squid_one



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Oral Sex, Psychological Torture, Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 10:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squid_one/pseuds/squid_one
Summary: Captured by Hydra you are forced to endure what feels like endless torture and body modifications until you are molded into a new soldier for destruction, but Hydras victory is short lived when the team finally finds you. This story is GRAPHIC in its depictions of violence and will eventually become GRAPHIC in its depictions of sex.





	1. Chapter 1

Torture, angst, brain washing, mutilation, body modification, anxiety, ptsd  
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  
The cell they had tossed you in was dank; moisture seeped through the walls and the chill ran straight to your bones. You brought your left hand to your right shoulder, drawing your knees up to your chest to keep your body heat in the core of your body. You knew your right arm was broken, maybe in more than one place, but at least you hadn't died of a fatty embolism. Yet.

You heard the deep voices outside your cell, speaking in a dialect you didn't know or understand. Was it Russian? Maybe. You looked around for any source of light, hoping for a window or a door near the rear cells. All you saw were more empty cells, blood smeared on the wooden bench in your own cell and the steel toilet located near the foot of that bench. You inhaled slowly, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you.

“I need water you fucks!” You shouted, wincing at the pain that shot through your useless right arm.

A scuffling came toward you, booted feet not bothering to lift high enough not to drag on the stone floor. You looked up, anger clearly cast over your features and the man that stood before you simply smirked, lifted a bucket and doused you in its contents. You sputtered and coughed, trying to blink it out of yours and failing, making you cry out in pain. Fucking vodka, you thought to yourself.

“I need fucking water!” You shouted with your eyes closed, only to be doused with more vodka.

“Water!” You shouted again. 

The splash didn't come, you heard another voice, another set of footprints as you tried to wipe the offending liquid from your burning eyes and face. It hurt, but you wouldn't give in, not to this. You knew someone would find you, someone would piece it together. You just hoped it happened soon.

The voices conversed in what you were still assuming was Russian. One man sounded angry and the other simply chuckled. You heard liquid being poured into the bucket again and you groaned; not wanting to give in to the torture, but also unwilling to receive another cold splash of burning alcohol. No such luck, however, and when you cried out again, shaking your head to splash off the alcohol, you were suddenly met with a jolt against your side. A deep, stiffening of your muscles made your jaw clench and your broken arm extend painfully as a current of electricity made it way through your weakened body. 

You were made blissfully unconscious before they started hauling you out of the cell. When you came too, a throbbing, dull pain steadily growing sharper and stronger at your right shoulder made itself known. It felt like pure agony and you rose up to scream, only to be stopped halfway by bed restraints across your chest. You looked over and to your abject horror discovered a stump where you once had a broken arm. The scream that ripped from your throat was almost inhuman and the scientists were all busying themselves around you, drawing up drugs in syringes and turning alarms off of monitors. You looked around the room, frantic, eyes wide, heart hammering your chest until, finally, one of the men added a sedative to your drip. You quickly fell back on the rough hospital bed and faded into unconsciousness once more.  
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  
You woke up in an upright position, your shoulders were throbbing and your head was spinning. You reached a hand to rub at your eyes but there was nothing. Were you strapped down? You felt no persistence at your wrist, though, you blinked the dull light out of your eyes and looked around the room, the scientists were all busy scribbling in their notepads and on your medical charts to notice you had woken up. Again you made to bring your hand to your face, but something was wrong, there was a tingling and the throbbing became more insistent. You suddenly recalled, with no small amount of horror, that they had taken your broken arm off. You eyes widened and your heart began racing. Heads looked toward you, some lowering their eye protection and exchanging worried glances. 

“No. No, no, no.” You muttered, willing movement in your limbs.

Your legs moved, but not your arm, there was nothing there, nothing left but the stump of your shoulder. You shrieked, felt the pressure in your skull escalate and you frantically kicked your legs out as the scientists approached your IV bag. Of course they wanted to sedate you again, but you were having none of it.

“What have you done?!” You screeched at them again and again.

There was a commotion outside the door and they finally reached your bag, syringe at the ready to knock you into unconsciousness again.

“Stop!” came the strong, heavily accented voice from the doorway.

You never stopped screaming, your throat felt bone dry and raw. You didn't notice him, you were going into shock, but he took the syringe, asked what was in it and only dosed you with half of it. Once it pushed through the IV line and hit your system you began to still, your vision became hazy, but you could still see, the pain became dull throb once one, your heart slowed down and you focused in on the face directly in front of you. Your mind was fuzzy, not as quick to react through the sedative, despite your training as an agent. The man gently cupped your chin and spoke to you.

“You will become accustomed to my care, I will retrain you and in time, I will give you the gift of arms once more.” He said calmly.

“What did...what did you do?” you croaked out.

“I am rebuilding you. You will replace Barnes as my new Soldat until the other recruits are ready to come out of stasis. This is only a temporary state of being for you.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead.”

You needed to puke, the shock your body was going through making itself known again, but the sedative slowing your whole nervous system, you almost chewed on the words before you spoke them. You knew you wouldn't get a straight answer.

“Who are you?”

“You may call me, Father, Soldat.” He spoke calmly, almost lovingly to you.

It made your urge to vomit even stronger and you did, all over your shirt, before the scientists rushed in to clean you off. They were making sure none of it got onto your bandages, that it wouldn't infect your stumps. This couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. Where was Cap? Where was Tony or Sharon? Why hadn't they found you yet?

The questions swirled through your drug numbed brain before you were redressed in a clean hospital gown and laid onto a more comfortable bed. The man secured your ankles and your waist with the bed restraints, but propped you up in the bed, even putting extra pillows on either side of you so you wouldn't tumble over. The sensation of thinking you could still reach out, but not being able to was painful and frustrating and so you cried. You cried and sobbed until you were a mess of spit and tears and the man cleaned your face, despite your feeble attempts to get his hands away from your face.

“Be still, Soldat! What can you do to me anyways? Nothing. You must earn your privileges here, I will give you nothing for free.” He spoke slow, but firmly, “Do you understand?”

You didn't want to nod or say anything. Your arms were not a privilege, they were your fucking arms. He gripped your jaw roughly and made you look up at him.

“Understand?” he asked again, more sternly this time.

You glared at him, but his hand came crashing against your cheek, making your ears ring.

“You will get nothing for free here. Tell me, Soldat.”

You grimaced, tears streaking your face at how deeply in trouble you were now, no one would come to save you, “I understand.” You whispered.

The look on his face was pure satisfaction and he rewarded you by pressing a cool washcloth against your stinging cheek, “Good girl.”   
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆


	2. 2

You woke up and rolled slightly onto your side to help get yourself into a sitting position. It had been three weeks since your amputation, according to Dr. Priorov. He had been most interested in your health and recovery, every time he looked at you he avoided making eye contact, but he made sure you were receiving proper rations now as well as medicine. You had no doubt that his life was on the line if this experiment failed, but he was keeping you alive and comfortable. Dr.Priorov had also been the one so ready to add sedatives to your drip line at first. You overheard he and Father speaking one day; the doctor disapproving of his methods, saying that you shouldn't have been allowed to be fully awake until your body become more adjusted to the loss of limbs, but Father said it was necessary, it was going to make you better in the end.

You grated at his disturbing comments, the way he seemed to revel in his glee at your torture and mental instability. You knew you would never be the same again, never be able to enjoy Sams jokes and flirtations the way you did before, never bring Cap a coffee in the morning when he happened to stop in at the office, never giggle behind Furys back when he scolded the newbies. The memories brought unbidden tears to your eyes and you bit down into your lower lip to keep them from spilling over.

“Do you need more fentanyl?” the doctor asked you.

You shook your head; if Father heard you speak he would shock you again.

The doctor nodded and went about unwrapping your stumps, “Shall I get your eye coverings?” he asked you gently, his hands halting suddenly.

You typically went into a frenzy upon seeing what was left of your arms. They had left a substantial amount of your humerus bones in both arms and the flesh needed to be properly healed so the skin could be removed and the nerve endings wired into the new arms. You shook your head at his question and he continued to remove the wrappings, so you took this time as an opportunity to remember the people you were missing. They no doubt believed you had died when the warships went down or maybe they thought the Winter Soldier had killed you on his way out. Thinking about him derailed your train of though. He had gone through this as well, the same exact procedure, but did they do it to him by forcefully removing his arm? You were unsure, maybe if you lived through this and you were still you on the other side, you could ask Nick. You chanced a glance at your right stump and immediately went into panic mode. Breathing heavy, heart beat racing, the doctor snapped his fingers in your face.

“Stop! Focus up here Soldat! Do not look there. You must become used to them this way before I can give you new ones,” His voice became a whispered hush, “try moving them, a little bit, stop ignoring them. If the muscles atrophy too much they will simply throw you out to fend for yourself in the fucking woods.” His face was worried, sweat lining his brows.

He was taking a risk admitting this to you.

“How can I stop the panic? Can't you give me something? Antipsychotics, antianxiety meds?” your voice was a rasped whisper and he strained to hear it.

He searched your pleading, tear filled eyes and finally nodded, minutely. He straightened up and picked up his chart, scribbling some notes before going to his chest of medications. He fumbled around and then called Father on his walkie talkie.  
☆☆☆☆☆☆  
“I am impressed, Priorov, hardly any tears from my small one now.” His smile was sadistic as you continued to move the stumps of your arms in the directions commanded.

Feeling them press against your chest was especially difficult and nauseating. You never thought you could be so thoroughly disgusted by your own body, but here you were. Never say never. Father stepped up to you, looking over the scars as he held your left stump gently in his hand.

“Are they healing properly?” he asked, pulling slightly at the flesh a few inches away from the amputation site.

You sucked in a breath at the pain and the alien sensation and the doctor quickly walked up to the two of you, “Not if you keep touching them! Please, sir, please. If you hurt or desensitize anything, it will potentially affect the prosthetic graft.” He quickly supplied to his irate looking superior.

“Fair enough, you are the mad scientist.” Father chuckled at his own joke.

“I am inquiring about adding these medications to her cocktail. They were the same we gave to Barnes, but updated and more readily available.” Dr.Priorov handed a small slip of paper to the man.

He immediately handed it back, “Give this Charkov, he can go for the supplies. You have my permission to give her whatever necessary drugs to move this along. We have leads on the Winter Soldier and might be moving her initiation up.” He walked back to you and kissed your forehead lovingly.

“Tomorrow, we begin the real work.”  
☆☆☆☆☆☆  
This had become a necessary embarrassment for you; paging the attending scientist to help you with your bodily functions. They had decided this was better than having a clumsy soldier do it and possibly ruining your nerves, so they took shifts and switched who took care of you. They would bathe you, feed you, help you clean yourself after the restroom, anything you couldn't do on your own. Father helped now and then with feedings, saying it was good for a father to bond with his young this way. He never underfed you and often offered you seconds or sweets and it made your heart clench that he was reveling in your neediness like this, forcing you to depend on him. 

The scientist on duty this afternoon was Claire, a woman from the states, a scientist that, according to Priorov, had been disbarred for her inhumane experimentations on the elderly and infirm. Hydra readily scooped her into their loving arms, eager for people with these loose morals and their interest in human suffering to further their own goals and ideals. Claire never spoke, never offered you eye contact and her face was a mask of emotionlessness. It was terrifying, she was a true psychopath and when you reacted to pain was the only time her eyes lit up with interest and she would document it. The stimulus, the reaction, the severity, the damage done. Father loved having her to take notes during your torture sessions.

She helped you sit down on the toilet and once you were finished, she pressed your belly against the sink and wiped you clean. It made you want to cry and vomit and kill her. You were more stable on your feet now, so you made the walk back to the bed on your own and she barely needed to help you sit down on it. Once she left, you practiced your leg mobility, stretching them and bringing them as high as you could in a sitting position, you also did jumping jacks and sprints and lunges in your room. 

You refused to become weak while in their care and no matter how much Father tortured you, you wouldn't let him take your mind and your free will. Months had passed by now, soon you would be ready for the big procedure and Father was ecstatic, he made a point of telling you every day that they were almost ready.  
☆☆☆☆☆  
It was time for your big operation. You were terrified, you didn't want to die, but you didn't want to live life as this mutilated person. They would be removing your skin and the layer of fat over what was left of your upper arms, Father had given the ok for your pain meds to be increased and the doctor was already dosing you with antianxiety medications. They had made things easier for you, for the most part, eased your occurrences of anxiety and panic attacks and the antipsychotics were keeping you from what Father liked to call tantrums.

Dr.Priorov stood over you, checking your IV site, making sure the lines weren't kinked, making sure all the monitors were running appropriately and giving accurate readings. He finally nodded his ok to Claire and she quickly put the mask over your face.

“Count back from 100.” she said.

“100,” what would you do when you saw Sam again? “99” what would Natasha think? “90, 98.” everything went black.  
☆☆☆☆☆  
You came around to the sound of beeping, a familiar and alarming throbbing in your shoulders. You tried to wake yourself up quickly, but you couldn't, you would wake up slowly, like a slug climbing to it's death at the tip of a plant. You couldn't move your stumps at all, they felt like lead and that should have alarmed you, but your reactions were coming too slow.

You turned your head and it felt like cement flowed through your veins. You caught sight of your stump and immediately bile rose in your throat and you began vomiting.

“Suction, fucking suction Claire, Dmitri! Keep that anesthesia deep God damn it!” Priorov was shouting orders and you were being cleaned so you wouldn't aspirate.

But you wanted to die now. Your skin had been stripped away and there were wires dangling and embedded in your muscle tissue. You quickly sunk into unconsciousness again and you were thankful.  
☆☆☆☆☆  
You finally woke up in your familiar hospital bed, Father and Priorov were there, the latter sporting a swollen and split open cheek. What had Father done to him? You felt mild concern for the man.

“Good morning my little one!” Father said softly, getting up from his seat, “You slept for 3 days, we were worried about you.” He ran his hands through your hair.

“It...hurts.” You whispered out and Father waved Priorov over.

You must have watched the doctor too long because Father clicked his tongue at you and painfully flicked your cheek, causing you to look away immediately. The doctor added another small bag to your IV pole, next to your lactated ringers. It was a fentanyl drip and you would be happy once the pain killer flushed into your main line.

“Claire will not be in your company anymore.” Father finally said as Priorov sat down.

You nodded, finally feeling the effect of the pain killer, Father went on with his talking, though.

“She assaulted our good doctor when he was too slow for her liking in hooking up your new, beautiful arms. We now have to monitor you for sluggishness and poor reaction time.” He frowned as he spoke.

You simply nodded before drifting into unconsciousness. It felt like you had slept for only minutes, but you knew that couldn't be accurate. The one bustling over you today was unimportant, Father said you needed to stop remembering their names. You had a bag of antibiotics wrapped in a brown paper bag hanging from your drip and running with your fluids now. You briefly wondered what happened to Claire, but quickly pushed the thought aside, choosing instead to focus on your arms. They were a bright silver color, striking against even the white of your hospital sheets and you were pumped so full of pain killers that you couldn't feel even the dull throbbing in your shoulders like you had been. You watched the index finger of your right hand as you willed it to move.

Nothing.

Tears filled your eyes as you prompted it to move again, trying to feel like you were simply moving your own flesh and blood finger and suddenly it twitched, it was a small movement but it was there and you cried out.

People quickly ran into the room and you could hear someone calling Father over the walkie talkie. He would surely want to get your training started and that would be your chance to escape. You willed your fingers to move again and even formed a fist with your left hand, the whirring of gears and plates singing to you as your new arms complied. You sobbed out at the sensation of having arms again.  
☆☆☆☆☆  
“Again, Soldat!” he shouted at you.

You were tired, though and your chest and back ached at the effort of holding your new arms up, you missed your mark on the punching bag and he came up behind you, pushing you down onto your knees roughly before hitting you with the cattle prod. It caused you to convulse and spittle flew from your mouth, you were glad your bladder was empty or else you would've pissed yourself. 

The weeks went on like this, the doctor was giving you extra protein and high fat foods, the training regimen was building up muscle to accommodate the weight of the arms; even though they were vibranium and incredibly lightweight, you had gone months without arms and the little muscle left on your shoulders and biceps had atrophied too far. Today Father would be using the chair on you and the thought was terrifying. He had made you sit in it to measure things out and get the settings right, but had not used it yet. The doctor had increased the drugs he was giving you to make you more compliant and it was working exceedingly well.

Later that afternoon, while you were laying under your UV lamp, Father came for you and in his hands was a red leather book with a gold star on the front of it. You shook at the thought as he held your cybernetic hand and led you to the chair like a child being led to time out.

“Everytime we need to reset you, we will do so with this chair, we won't need it to give you your command words. You will soon be able to receive those at any location, like a good girl, and do as you are told.” Father told you with a sinister smile tugging at his lips.

You were strapped into the chair by two doctors, a fitted mouthpiece placed between your teeth and Priorov watched with his medical journal in his hands; you could see his pencil shaking in his hand and it worried you even more. What would they do to you here? Finally the head pieces lowered, clamping onto your face and instantly inciting panic, adrenaline coursing through you and only making things worse, making your lungs burn and your kidneys hurt. Finally the machine was switched on and your head was filled with incredible pain, memories flashed behind your eyelids as you screamed around your mouth guard. The longer it was on the more you lost yourself and finally Father came with his words.

“I am Father. I am your only concern. I am your only reason for doing and being.” Finally the machine was shut down, you were heaving for breath and the mouthguard was removed.

Father came to you, “Who are you?”

You searched your memories for a moment, finally pulling your name from a shallow hole and telling him. He frowned, but wasn't angry.

“Take her to her room.” He said.  
☆☆☆☆☆  
Everyday you were strapped to that chair, the days bled into weeks, which ran into months and finally, after years of beatings, electroshock therapy, mental and sensory deprivation, you could no longer bring your name from the depths of your memories. The hole was so deep that it hurt to even try and you desperately wanted to avoid pain at this point. Soldat was what you responded to.

You were busy in a training session for jiujitsu when father urgently interrupted, hustling the instructor out of the cell. He looked at you, gripped your shoulders and began to speak.

“Affirmation.” Oh no, you thought.

“Prospect.” your shoulders shook as he spoke.

“Five.” You wanted to scream and run, but your body was passed obeying.

“Yellowed.” your sense of self was quickly fleeing.

“Comfort.” your mind cleared.

“Evening.” your breathing evened out and your eyes unfocused.

“Twenty three.” You could feel Fathers hands drop from your shoulders.

“Decay.” acceptance washed over you.

“Train.” The need to serve overcame you.

“Fallen.” You were ready.

“Ready to comply.” The words left your lips in a hushed, yet confident tone.

“Come, Soldat, we are under attack and you must get me free from here.” He pushed you in front of him to utilize you as a human shield.

You got to your room safely, despite flying bullets and people trying to evacuate and you suited up. Heavy, leather gear, knives and your firearms all at the ready. You had trained for years and Father was confident you would keep him safe. Once loaded up and with your bullet proof mask and eyewear in place, you led Father out of the room and into the corridor; there was screaming and gunfire and none of it phased you, your destination was set and you wouldn't stop until you got there. Several agents managed to catch a glimpse of you and they quickly retreated, your mind unable to process the looks and expressions on their faces. It wasn't fear, it was something else entirely.

Once you got Father safely to his go vehicle he commanded you to stay and kill any avenger that happened to cross your path. This was the moment he had been waiting for-you would either accomplish your mission and then be killed for it or you wouldn't be strong enough and you would be killed for it. He didn't really either way.

“If they capture you, I will engage the fail safe procedure on your arms. They will be useless again.” He told you before speeding away.

It struck a chord in you, fear bubbled passed your conditioning and it made you wild with the need to survive. You couldn't lose your arms again, that much was certain and you were about to find out the extent of your power.

“Who the fuck is that?” came a somewhat winded voice from behind you.

You turned to face the two men who now confronted you, your arm plates shifting and whirring into place as you slowly withdrew the bowie knife.

“Oh fuck.” the man with the wings whispered out and a name you hadn't heard for years slipped passed his lips.  
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  
“New arms, who dis?” I wanna thank @ursulaismymiddlename for that one.


	3. 3

You charged the man with the wings, quickly assessing that he was off guard and unexpectant of an attack, he went down and you landed on top of him and as he hit the ground, his arms came up in defense even as he called that name again and again.

“Come on, man, just listen!” he shouted at you, but you couldn't remember the name he was crying out. 

Finally the other man grabbed you by the collar of your top and threw you off of his companion, hitting the ground briefly threw you off, but you gathered yourself up to charge again as the two quickly took up fighting stances. You frowned at them, taking in their physical advantages over your smaller frame. Hopefully the doctors cocktail would help give you a leg up; you knew it wasn't just vitamins and antipsychotics in it. 

He called the name again and you searched your memories for it; you knew that fucking name, “Who the fuck are you?” you spat.

His face fell and his brunette companion only looked more concerned, “Sam, who is she?” he asked in a hushed tone.

You quickly withdrew your knife.

“She's a SHIELD agent that went missing after you…” he didn't finish the sentence.

Your head began to throb and you felt panic setting in and finally, with a scream, you charged them. You thrust your knife at the brunette as the man named Sam threw a kick your way, getting you square in the kidney. It knocked you dizzy and nauseated for a moment, but you didn't stop, you pushed at the brunette harder, the gears in your arms whirring and clicking into place. He kept looking at them and you finally noticed his left hand. The shining fingers. The subtle sound of plates singing as they came to life under his leather jacket.

“Who are you?” you ground out as he deflected your knife again.

He didn't answer. You felt a strong arm quickly come around your neck and put you in a chokehold. You sent a high kick at the brunette in front of you, landing it on his jaw as Sam dragged you away. You gripped his forearms and began to squeeze, his grunted at the pain, but didn't let up. You increased pressure and felt his grip start to weaken.

“Shit, Sam!” came a third voice from behind you; it distracted you.

The brunette was suddenly on you, grabbing your wrists and bringing them down, even his flesh hand was stronger than a normal mans. You locked eyes with him as your vision began to darken at the edges. 

“Just go down,” Sam said softly into your hair, “Just fucking go down.” His tone was desperate.

You could feel your brain fighting it, could feel the drugs in your system kicking in as your mind started to turn off and suddenly your body was a flurry of struggles and kicks, even as you blacked out. The third person made it to the struggle quickly and you were incapacitated by an electric current.  
☆☆☆☆☆  
You woke up on an old, stiff, musty smelling futon, your neck and right shoulder ached and you realized that was where you had been hit with a cattle prod. It wasn't anything new for you, often you had been struck with a cattle prod under Fathers command, but it always hurt and left you aching. You moved to roll over onto your side but you couldn't pull your arm with you and looking over you saw that you were shackled to the bed frame. You frowned and rolled your eyes, opting to just lay on your back. The shackles were made of vibranium, same as your arms and you knew you wouldn't have much luck fighting them.

“Good to see you awake.” came a strong voice at the now open doorway.

You looked at the man standing before you. It was the man with the wings from your earlier fight. He looked completely relieved, something you hadn't expected and he cautiously closed the distance.

“What do you want from me?” you all but snarled at the man and his face fell.

He said that name again, full of sadness.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” you asked him.

“Because it's your name. You've been gone for years, we all thought you died when the helicarriers went down. Don't you remember anything?” he asked you softly, his eyes searching your own.

You tried, you honestly tried and the effort of digging passed Fathers trigger words completely set you off. You began to sweat, your right temple throbbed, your heart raced.

“Can't you even remember me? Come on, it's me, Sammy!” his hands were on your shoulder and you began screaming.

Immediately you could hear boots rushing into the room and you felt a prick in your neck, despite crushing someone's hand in your metallic grasp. You started to fade a little, your panic fading to a low buzz in the back of your head. Sam had a hand on yours and you looked at him without seeing him. Your pressure sensors and temperature gauges made your brain think you were actually having your original hand held, the thought crossed your mind that this was seriously fucked up. These aren't your hands. What happened to your hands?

“Sam?” you groaned out.

He immediately snapped his head up and you knew those soft, dark eyes, the intensely honest and open feelings there. His readable face and worried lips. This was Sammy, a man that you had once called your best friend. You had sent so many agents to see him and his coworkers for PTSD and anxiety disorders that the two of you had grown close fast. He didn't know you worked for SHIELD until Cap had recruited him and he had only mentioned it in brief codewords over text. Only days before the helicarriers went down, before Hydra captured you, before they cut off your arms.

“Oh my god, Sam, my fucking arms! They cut off my fucking arms!” You screamed out, the drugs pumping through your system working through the sedation you had just received.

“Bucky!” Sam called and you felt two strong arms wrap around you, pinning your arms to your sides, the shackle straining and banging on the frame.

It was gentle, but still strong enough to keep your bionic arms from doing any damage. The man held you tight, quietly shhh’ing in your ear, his hair tickling your neck. Sam was chanting your name, trying to help you refocus, telling you where you were, but you couldn't move passed this. They had butchered you, they had used you as a lab experiment and now you were a shell of your former self. Bucky began rocking your body slowly back and forth as Sam stood and excused himself, unable to keep himself dissociated . 

“Breathe, darlin’, inhale,” Bucky paused here and you pulled in a breath, “slowly now, exhale.” You released the breath and he guided you to breathe several more times.

Bucky placed his cybernetic hand over your chest, over your heart,”Well, her BPM has slowed, as close to normal as it can get.” His hands stroked your arms and Sam came in again.

You stared unblinking at the wall ahead of you, fists clenching and unclenching, the whirr of plates maddening now. This was who you were, this was who they had turned you into; a tool. You were panicked, unable to fully calm yourself, the prickling sensation on your shoulders was maddening, the electric waves that seemed to pulse through them was bordering on deep tissue pain. Something was wrong, this couldn't be normal.

“I need a doctor.” You spat quickly, terror in your eyes.

“Shit, get her to the infirmary!” Bucky shouted, but you were already convulsing.

Sam quickly undid the shackle holding you to the bed and were hauled to the infirmary by two agents, Bucky running ahead and clearing a path. Finally you were thrown onto a med bed and strapped to it, sensors were placed all over you, your brain was in a frenzy and your arms were screaming in protest. A doctor set an IV catheter in your foot, a move she wasn't really pleased with having to do, but it would take too long to place a central line. Bucky was helping to setup your fluid bag and a nurse was already drawing up a dose of valium.  
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  
You came to, groggy and mouth dry. You tried to move an arm, but only felt dead weight. Tried to lift the other and more of the same. You knew it should bother you, but you honestly didn't care, you were emotionally exhausted and whatever mood leveler they had dosed you with had you feeling pretty uncaring at the moment. You looked around the room, they had left you alone, that was unusual. When Father had you, you were almost never alone.

You looked down at your arms, willing them to move and feeling nothing whatsoever. The previously painful tingling was gone. This must have been Fathers doing; remote control disabling of your arms. You should have seen it coming, but you also figured that Father would've assumed you were still under the control of your programming. There was really no logic to this decision, you decided and you called out, voice hoarse, for a doctor.

You were suddenly bombarded with people; nurses, doctors, Sam, Bucky and another man. Tall, blonde and gorgeous. 

“Shit, Cap.” You muttered, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, coming to your bedside.

“Broken. I can't move these fucking things.” You told him.

“What?!” his voice was worried and he was examining the limbs, unstrapping you and lifting them.

Dead weight. You were surprised by how worried Bucky looked. His eyes widened and he shook his head slowly, looking to Steve for guidance or reassurance, you weren't sure. The drugs made you not care.

“What am I on? Because this amazing. For the first time, I'm not spiraling into panic and anxiety.” You asked a doctor who was taking your vitals. 

She eyed you for a moment, then flipped through the chart in her hand, frowning slightly, “Someone gave you a drug we typically keep in reserve. It isn't approved for regular use.” her tone was even, but her eyes were angry, “You need to deal with your problems. I won't keep you on this forever.”

You nodded in understanding as Sam helped you to sit up. It was the first time in a long time that you needed help in sitting up. Memories flooded through you and you were miles away, thinking of the doctors on the base that would help you do everything when it came to your personal functions. The thought was enough to make you blush, despite the mood leveling meds on board.

“Sam, just… don't make me go through this again…” it was a soft plea and Sams eyes widened as the implication hit him hard.

“Don't you ever, ever! Fucking ask me to do that.” His voice deep and hard and you frowned, feeling tears building in your eyes.

“Sam, you have no idea what I've gone through.” You whispered.

“Don't! I've helped plenty of amputee soldiers get through things and Tony can look at your arms. I'm calling him right now.” Sam said, pulling his cell out and hitting a contact.

He walked away to talk on the phone and Bucky took his place by your bed. Surely he could do something. He knew what this was like to a degree.

“Bucky,” you started, but he was already shaking his head.

“I'll protect you, I won't do anything to harm you. Haven't you suffered enough?” he said softly, locking eyes with you.

You nodded and pulled your knees up to your chest, leaning your head down to rest on them.

“Tony will figure this out.” He said as he reached out a hand toward you, only to have you shrink away, “Ain't gonna’ hurt you.”

You shook your head, though, uncomfortable with the idea of someone touching you in an intimate or friendly way. Bucky looked down at you and you felt even more vulnerable than before; this man was your predecessor and the model they wanted you to be better than. Father would often tell you the tortured that the Winter Soldier had gone through before pushing you through something worse. He was the the foundation, the starting point, the basis of your pain and trials. 

“Bucky, how can I go on?” you whispered to him.

He sucked in a harsh breath and sunk to his knees beside your bed, “You'll find a way, I'll help you find it.” His voice was pure determination.  
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆


	4. 4

Father was hovering over you, watching as your body writhed in agony and your throat was too raw to scream and cry anymore. He had disabled your bionic arms and hooked you up to the chair, doing a memory wipe before he began the next session of training. You had pleaded with him not to go through with it, not to wipe your memories, but he would not indulge you. He needed to forget anyone that had shown you kindness outside of himself. He needed to be the epicenter of your whole world and in order to do that he first had to take your world away.

You wouldn't remember anything anyways.

☆☆☆☆☆☆  
You woke up screaming, sitting bolt upright, your useless arms dangling at your sides. You throat felt raw and the stinging sensation from your dream was all too real. You kicked the blankets off of your overheated body and bucked your torso causing you to fall off the bed and flat on your chest. It hurt and knocked the wind out of you, but it made you realize that you had been dreaming.

“FRIDAY, get Mr.Stark, please.” You quietly asked the AI of the compound.

“Yes miss.” was her short reply.

Moments later Tony barreled into your room and he was shocked to see you curled on the floor, arms at painful looking angles. He came to you and pulled one of your arms across his shoulders to hoist you back up. You felt completely useless, impotent, worthless, the feeling made you cry. Tony looked down at you and frowned; he wasn't expecting you to look so feeble and weak, to be so fragile.

“Come on kid, back into bed. Do I need to strap you in?” Tony asked you as he settled you onto the mattress.

You hesitated a moment, avoiding his warm gaze, before nodding. So he did, he pulled the straps tenderly across your chest and stomach and then he almost lovingly cuffed your ankles to the lower post. It was a strange thing, a strange way for him to restrain you. A violent stranger.

You sobbed out and he grabbed a box of tissues from the closet in the hospital room, “I'm going to fix this. You're gonna’ have to tell me how these arms are connected to you, though.” He said as he wiped the tears from your eyes and the snot from under your nose.

You never imagined Tony Stark would be this caring and gentle and you realized that it took a lot of work to hold up the facade of asshole, playboy for the media and it made sense that he was a much more broken and fragile man. You took a deep breath and made one request.

“Bucky, please. I'd like him to be here.” You had thought about having Sam there, your heart ached to have his support, but he was so angry with you still.

Tony frowned, but he agreed and had FRIDAY request his presence. The man came sauntering into the room, wearing a pair of pewter colored sweatpants that hung low on his hips and white beater that hugged every small hill and valley of muscle. It had been a long time since you had been with a man, you realized. Bucky was also carrying something with him; a pair of notebooks, one that was beaten up and well read and another in pristine condition and completely blank. It had a mechanical pencil in it and he handed it to you. Looking up at him in confusion, he offered you a smile.

“I know this is going to be hard, but you should write down everything that happened to you. I have good notebooks, from when I was still with Steve in Brooklyn and bad notebooks. People I killed. The ways they...the ways they hurt me. I wrote it all down.” He said as you reluctantly took the notebook.

You proceeded to tell Tony how the arms were attached, every gruesome detail was laid bare in front of him, “They had to strip the skin ofc in order to get a more sensitive connection to the arms. It helps me operate them more efficiently. The central chip was embedded under the muscle after they peeled all the skin and fat away. I don't know what it looks like under there, but I don't have any infections, so I can only assume that it's healed over the wires and connections themselves.” Tony looked nauseated, angry and intrigued all at once.

You wanted to vomit, though, remembering the sight of your stumps stripped of flesh and cleaned like meat ready for the butcher. The sensation of the central chip being forced through muscle tissue before the overlay of conductors and wires and finally the arms themselves slid up onto the delicate meat of what was left of your arms. You told Tony about this process as well and reminded him that you would need to be awake to make sure everything was connecting properly. He looked mortified and so did Bucky. 

You were impressed that Tony hadn't puked, yet, Bucky was barely sitting still in his chair. You could see the hate for Hydra growing in him, this was just another atrocity to add to the list of his reasons to destroy them all. Tony took his leave, finally, muttering to himself about paralytics and pain killers and cognitive functions. Bucky stayed by your side, though, his eyes locked on his hands, which were balled into fists on his thickly muscled thighs.

“Bucky?” you whispered.

“Should I get Sam?” he asked, his voice cracked.

“Oh, um, no. I don't think he's ready to see me just yet. Are you ok?” you asked him.

“No, not at all. And you're not ok. This is all so fucked up. They cut off your fucking arms!” he yelled, standing from his seat and letting it fall to the floor.

“Bucky.” You whispered.

He towered over your bed and put his hands on your shoulders, as if to emphasize and remind you that these weren't yours. Your eyes burned with mushed tears that began to obscure your vision, “Get out.” You whispered harshly.

Your name escaped his lips in a regret filled whisper, his arms quickly crossing in front of his chest and his angry, bright eyes averting their gaze almost shamefully. You wanted to bring your hands up to wipe the tears from your face, but you couldn't, they wouldn't obey you.


	5. 5

Feeling the angst now, be prepared for torture, gore, non consensual body modification and mild fluff

\----  
Tony was prepping the OR, seeing to it that everything was immaculate and properly sterilized; revelling in this opportunity to unleash his OCD in a productive manner. All the tools were ready for your upcoming surgery and he had crafted you a most lovely set of arms.

“Tony, these are like some elaborate and horrifyingly expensive gift. I want ‘em, but I feel like I need to say no to you. Can't you just fix the ones I already have?” You asked him as Sam leaned over your wheelchair. 

Sam had taken to wheeling you everywhere and then making sure you got outside for some actual walks and stimulation. He knew how important it was that you see how normal the world still was, even though your situation was a complete nightmare. Sam knew that it helped ground you, that seeing normalcy made you feel like someday you could come back to that life. 

“Not taking a chance on those things. Hydra had their grubby little hands on them and there's no telling what booby traps could be waiting for us there. These ones suit you.” he lovingly ran his hands along the finely etched details on the arms.

“But, Tony, I just…” you couldn't think of what to say that wouldn't sound unreasonable to him.

“Nope, they're yours. They're going to be better, lighter and more responsive, too. The grandfathers helped me tool around with the specs in that area. Now I just have to make myself comfortable with the fact that I'll be administering a powerful paralytic to you instead of anesthesia.” Tony frowned at this, his fingers gripping the metal arms tightly.

“Tony, I promise, it's ok.” you tried to reassure him, you wanted desperately to place a hand on top of his, but you just couldn't will your arms to move.

“Bucky volunteered to take your arms off.” Tony let you know, his back to you. 

You understood why; if they were trapped and rigged to explode upon removal, then Bucky would sustain little damage. Hopefully the cocktail you had been getting on a daily basis would also help you live through something like that and it was startling that you might suddenly be wishing for life instead of another sweet release into oblivion. Sam squeezed your shoulder and looked down at you, worry etched across his sharp feature and he sucked in his bottom lip, teeth biting the plump flesh.

“I can do it, instead,” he started, but your eyes widened in horror.

“No Sammy! No…” you couldn't risk him getting injured or even killed trying to help you, “when can we get this show on the road?” You asked.

“I'm ready when you are, kiddo,” came Bucky's voice from the doorway.

Your eyes widened when you saw that he was decked out in protective garb; Kevlar vest, reinforced gloves, Kevlar pants and a helmet under his arm with reinforced eye guards. He looked determined, his eyes meeting yours finally, after two weeks of avoiding you like the plague. You nodded grimly at him, willing yourself to feel braver than you actually did.

“I'd like to use the restroom before I do anything that may cause me to soil myself.” you tried to joke, but it was all too truthful and Sam ran a hand through your hair before rolling you to the bathroom.

Tony led you to the blast room outside the avengers facility; it was close enough to walk there, but far enough to give anyone at the facility a chance to escape from any real damage. Sam was still rolling you along and Bucky was following with a determined stride and a fierce look in his eyes. You kept your head down for the most part, trying to steady your nerves and keep your breathing even, but it was difficult and Sam would periodically give you a reassuring touch or a ruffle to your hair. After what felt like an eternity you found yourselves in front of a massive, grey building obscured by a dense tree line, it had no windows and only one door. There were no elaborate or garish signs that belied the importance of the building as a place where devastating threats were taken care of, it seemed to be just another storage facility on the grounds.

Tony scanned a keycard and your little group entered. Your eyes were assaulted by bright, white lights and you took in the next door with a sudden feeling of dread and panic. You looked up at Sam and he smiled down at you, before stoically pushing you closer to the door. Bucky was fidgeting and pulling on his helmet, clicking a button on the side to lift his visor as Tony opened the next set of doors. Sam passed your chair to Bucky and gave you a hard look before following Tony. 

“They're going to the observation room. Neither of them want to leave, even if something happens.” Bucky explained and you nodded, swallowing hard.

“What about you, Bucky?” You asked him quietly.

“I'm going to protect you. No one deserves to be under their thumb.” 

You took a deep breath and watched him close the doors with a sequence on the keypad. He turned to you and nodded and you stood, letting the chair roll away from you. Bucky lightly caressed your cheek and you leaned into the gentle touch before he stood at your side and began his work. You didn't think the arms could be removed without special equipment, but Tony had thought of that, many of the connections could be severed with a magnetic force and Bucky was placing several tiny magnets along where the arms met flesh. There was a tingling sensation and you suddenly cried out, feeling tearing and pulling sensations in the stumps of your arms. You began to fall to your knees, but Bucky had you in his arms and he was moving to his next step.

“Bucky, not so… close… you won't be, ugh, able to…” your words were broken and slurred and Bucky just shook his head at you.

Bucky removed a small laser from his vest and began to slice through the metal, your strangled sobs and period outbursts resoundingly loud in the room. It was an excruciating process and he was trying to get as much of the metal off of your skin as he could, eventually having to peel away small plates with his fingers. He finally had both arms removed and the stumps were bared to him; scars, welts and blood making a mess of them. Bucky laid you down gently and quickly grabbed up the arms, loading them into a shoot on the far wall for hazardous waste disposal. He made his way back to you and picked you up, Sam and Tony were already there and you could see their worried expressions.

“We'll analyze the arms later since they don't seem to be leveling the neighborhood just yet. Bring her to the med bay.” Tony and Sam broke into a sprint and Bucky clutched you against his hard chest and left the two men in the dust as he outright ran back to the facility. 

You were quickly wheeled into the operating room, panting and sweating. You were reaching for Sam, but no one was there and you became frantic, falling back into the old mindset that your arms had been there all along. Your stumps were grotesquely reaching out arms that weren't there; they felt like they were, they tingled and there was almost weight. Bucky watched as your eyes became unbelievably wide and you started hyperventilating. The doctors were hooking you up to monitors and at one point you landed a swift kick to a nurse who fell in a heap on the floor. Sam wrapped his arms around your shoulders as Tony quickly carried the nurse out of the room and the remaining staff was able to completely restrain your body on the chair. You were hooked up to the monitors and finally injected with the paralytic intravenously.

“Jesus Christ, she was never this strong before. Did you see the nurses face? It's already purple!” Sam whispered to Bucky.

Bucky had his eyes glued to yours, though and he quickly realized, “She can hear you, man.” He said to Sam.

Sam turned and looked at you strapped to the chair with a guilty look on his fine features; you had always hated seeing him make that face, bashfully avoiding eye contact, biting his plump lower lip and his hand on the back of his neck. You couldn't move now, you felt the stiffness, the almost static feeling of being paralyzed by a drug wash over you before you could crack a joke about an avenger making a silly face like that. Your mind was moving a mile a minute as you saw the arms on the mayo stand get unwrapped in typical sterile-room fashion and you heard Tony reenter the operating room with quick steps. He was suddenly in front of you, garbed in a surgical gown, cap and sterile gloves. You could feel your heart begin to race and your breathing picked up, but you sat passively, the maddening beeping on the machines letting these people know just how truly terrified you were.

Sam left the operating room quickly and you couldn't escape the shock you felt, ‘Please don't leave me here, Sammy!’ the thought whirled in your mind. 

“Gonna need one of you in here in case something happens, go get scrubbed in, Barnes.” Tony commanded as he began directing the reluctant medical team.

“Sir, you realize that she-” the surgeon to his left was abruptly cut off.

“I know. So. Stop, get your head out of your ass and get started. There's a time limit here people and we have to keep the patient awake and conscious for this link up to work. If you have any, and I mean absolutely any, reservations here, leave now.” Tony announced as he looked over his tools and pulled his machines forward.

The nurses set about scrubbing your stumps, you could feel the gauze rubbing the harsh soap into the skin, the foam building up and finally they applied the aloe enriched scrub soap to soothe the irritated flesh. You felt like that was wasted effort in the end, but appreciated the thought all the same. Finally the surgeons were ready and Tony had his machines hold up what was left of your appendages, they clamped firmly onto the very ends of the ruined limbs and held them, exposed to the surgeons. The doctors shared agonized expressions before setting to work cutting into the soft skin and deep into the muscles. Tony refused to remove the skin on you, his reasoning being that bio-technology was more sophisticated in his labs than anywhere else and if his machines could create the Vision, then he could make your prosthetics more functional and relatively painless. Thinking about the things he had told you was helping to keep the pain from the scalpels down to a simmering buzz, you felt a strong hand rest on your head and it helped for a moment. The procedure was crawling along slowly, and finally the surgeons were prepping the neural connectors to be laced through your arms.

The sensation of wire dragging through the meat of your arm was too much to ignore, however. It wasn't painful, it was violating and unnatural and you found your mind drifting off to Fathers face looking down at you while he instructed the scientists to peel away the skin of your limbs. Your heart rate picked up and suddenly there was a flurry of activity, you couldn't refocus, you didn't know where you were, did Father still have you? Had Sam actually found you or was this all an elaborate hoax? Whose hands were in your hair? 

“Why do my arms hurt? Where am I? Where's Father?” You began muttering, the paralytic already wearing off in your enhanced body.

Gentle shushing was your answer and the whistle of machinery above your body, but it only served to confuse you further and your breathing picked up, monitors began screaming and someone was barking for sedation, who was that? Why did he sound so familiar? 

“She said not to, Tony!” someone right next to you shouted just as you were getting your legs flexed and out of the paralyzing haze so you could attempt escape. 

A small pinch in your neck halted you, though and your mind was whirling and you clamped your eyes shut until the voices began to die down to a dull roar in your ears and you could feel your numb body go lax until, finally, blissful darkness took you over.  
°°°°°°°  
You groggily came back into existence, a quiet and slow drip accompanied by an obnoxiously persistent beep were your welcome back to the world. You tried blinking your eyes open, but the room was so bright that it hurt immediately, there was suddenly a flurry of movement in the room and finally a soft, deep voice.

“FRIDAY, dim the lights.” the voice commanded and the room grew comfortably dark.

The scribbling of pen on paper was grating and you eased open your eyes, lifting your right hand to your face and running the fingers down it. 

Lifting your hand? Your eyes shot open and you held your hand out in front of you, you flexed your fingers, made a fist, put each finger up one at a time and began laughing and sobbing at the same time. This hand, with its delicate looking and intricately shifting plates, was yours. Etched along the inner forearm was an array of azaleas and lillies and you pulled yourself into a seated position to look at it better. 

“How does it feel?”

You looked over and there was Bucky, downright exhausted looking and disheveled, but his cool, blue eyes bright and alive as they took you in.

“Feels… good… like real fingers.” You said softly, relishing in the sensation of having a hand and a whole arm again.

Emphasis on a whole arm. Where was the other? You looked over to your left shoulder and saw that the arm was indeed attached, but it was still and quiet, no gently moving plates and it was snugly held to your body by a sling. Buckys eyes moved to where you were yours were lingering.

“Yeah, about that,” he started, almost sheepishly.

You nodded for him to go on as a nurse began taking your vitals.

“Tony couldn't finish the neural linkup since he decided to sedate you. It just was working, like you said, so… we hafta’ go back in and finish the procedure.” his voice was low and soft and it made your stomach flip.

“Alright. When?” you asked him, breathing and out for the nurse.

“In a month and no sooner, your body needs to heal.” Bucky said firmly as he saw you begin to open your mouth to argue.

A month, a whole month before you would be able to work this hunk of metal welded to your arm. You looked down at it with irritation and ran your working hand through your hair with an exasperated sigh.  
°°°°°°°


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff....

Bucky had become your constant companion, a strong and steadfast shadow who seemed ready to move mountains to help you and it made your heart quake every time he came to see you. Bucky was becoming a person that you were quickly becoming far too attached to and you would often entertain the idea of severing ties with him completely in order to keep him safe from Hydra.

“Hey, doll? Everything ok in there?” came his soft voice from next to your bed.

Tony had moved you out of the infirmary after just two weeks, with Bucky looking after you and making sure you were taking your medications and pain killers and doing your physical therapy he felt the infirmary wasn't going to help your mental state as much as moving you into your own room.

“Yeah, Buck, I was just… thinking.” you answer him quietly.

“Good thoughts only, doll, it's therapy time.” he took your stationary hand and gave it a squeeze with his flesh hand and you looked down, hoping to feel something, but there was nothing.

You sighed and nodded and began your exercises with him, lifting, flexing, holding weights over the moveable stump of your arm while Bucky held the immovable arm up for you. His concentration was intense and it inspired you to work a little harder and really try. Physical therapy could be incredibly disheartening for you, but it was important in order to keep the muscles from atrophying until the arm could be fixed. 

“Listen, kiddo,” Bucky began as the physical therapist rubbed a cream into your neck and shoulders, you looked up at him with half lidded eyes, “I, uh, I'd like to take you out tonight. Been awhile since ya been out and really walked around town or anything. Think you're ready?”

You swallowed hard, but couldn't deny the sudden urge to get out and see some things, maybe pick up a smoothie and a new hoodie, “I'd like that Bucky.”  
••••  
The light was fading fast when Bucky came to your room to take you out, he was wearing a black shirt and an even darker black hoodie, blue baseball cap pulled low and snug jeans. You loved when Bucky wore jeans, the way they just seem to be poured onto him and moved perfectly with his thickly muscled thighs made you squirm. You grabbed the nice green sling that Tony had given to you, a little dressed up with embroidered filigree along the edges and a softly padded strap. You expertly maneuvered your dead arm into it and slipped out of your room, Bucky waiting with his arm offered out to you. You smiled and slipped your much smaller, metal appendage through his own larger one. The plates seemed to hum against each other in a peaceful way for a moment and you chuckled.

“I can't wait to take you to this new pizza place, they have some amazing stuff and Sam said you never got to go there.” Bucky seemed to be nervously rambling, gesticulating with his free hand and tugging you close.

He opened the passenger door to his grey pathfinder and you slipped onto the leather seat. Bucky jogged around to the other side and slid into his seat, pushing the ignition button and letting you have the radio while he prattle on about all the places he wanted to check out tonight. You felt a small pang of guilt as you thought about all the time you had stolen from him and all the things he had missed out on the past couple weeks.

“I've been waiting to get your butt outta that place for so long! Now we can really have fun!” He said with a lopsided grin.

You laughed softly at how silly he seemed to be acting over you and he bit his lip before slipping his tongue out minutely to lick the plump flesh. You swallowed hard and went back to fiddling with the radio.   
••••••  
All in all, the evening had turned out amazing, Bucky only had to give one person what you decided to call “the eyebrows” and the man quickly left you alone. Your accidental bodyguard treated you to some pizza, which was delicious, some nitro milk stout beer and now he was trying to talk you into cheesecake for dessert. 

“C'mon doll, one little slice? At the very least, ya gotta try it.” he put his flesh arm across your shoulders and pulled you close.

You tried to discretely inhale his scent; he always smelled so good, you were constantly sniffing at him when you could get this close. The woman at the counter smiled and said hello to him by name and finally you gave in and nodded.

“Beautiful! I'll get the cherry and the mini fluffy cheesecake.” he told the woman as she pulled out two boxes.

“Bucky, you said a slice.” you whispered, clinging your working hand to his hoodie.

“Well, this way, if ya’ like ‘em, you can have more or else Stevie and I can eat ‘em.” he chuckled.  
•••••••  
You were standing at your door now, Bucky looking down at you and you trying to avoid his brilliant eyes. You shifted on your feet a little and finally reached your hand out and rested it on his chest, he laid his on top of yours and sighed.

“I'm sorry, for being a fucking asshole a while back…” he started.

“No, Buck, I get it.” you said softly, still looking down.

“It wasn't ok, don't just brush it off.” his free hand was softly caressing your cheek and you looked up.

“I… I forgive you, Bucky.” your voice was almost a whisper and he leaned down to gently brush his lips against yours, a very small, warm kiss his gift to you.

“Thanks for coming out tonight, doll, didja’ have fun?” His voice was a husky whisper.

“Yes, I did, thanks for taking me, Bucky.” 

With that, Bucky reluctantly left you, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets and an easy smile on his handsome face. You closed the door and worried your lower lip before stripping down and climbing into bed. You cried yourself to sleep, feeling somehow like you had manipulated Bucky into this or that the only reason he was interested in you was because of your abuse at the hands of Hydra.  
☆☆☆☆☆

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr, but now there's a character limit on the posts, so this is easier.


End file.
